


Aziraphale Puts His Foot Down

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Ficlet Omens [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Discorporation (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: They were strolling through the park under Crowley's black umbrella, amiably discussing where to have lunch, when a stir of demonic energy made Aziraphale pause huffily, and then turn his steps towards a cluster of trees.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ficlet Omens [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620217
Comments: 7
Kudos: 351





	Aziraphale Puts His Foot Down

They were strolling through the park under Crowley's black umbrella, amiably discussing where to have lunch, when a stir of demonic energy made Aziraphale pause huffily, and then turn his steps towards a cluster of trees.

Crowley hissed, the sound merging with the patter of raindrops against the umbrella, and kept pace beside him. "Hastur!"

The duke of Hell sneered as they arrived arm in arm. "If it isn't the traitors. You're both going down for this."

Aziraphale turned his nose up. "You seem to have miscalculated, demon. As you may have noticed, it is, in fact, raining today, and I am, as it happens, an angel. What do you think would happen if I blessed the water which is currently soaking into your coat, hm? I wouldn't have to lift so much as a finger, just focus my mind and..."

Hastur screeched, miracled himself bone dry, and backed frantically away. Into a sodden tree, which dumped more water on him.

Aziraphale gave him a tight little smirk, and brought his hands up, fingers laced together in classic prayer mode.

Hastur shrieked again, and shot downwards into the earth. Before he could completely disappear, Aziraphale took two brisk strides forward and put his foot down on the frog on Hastur's head. Holy fire flared around the contact, and Hastur exploded into a heap of dirt.

Aziraphale pulled out a pocket handkerchief and primly dusted discorporated demon off his shoe.

" _Angel_." Crowley's voice was awed and admiring. "You didn't?"

"Merely discorporated, sadly." Aziraphale ducked back under the umbrella, his smirk dissolving into a fond smile. "As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, there's a new little cafe opened, and the word is that its lemon tart is simply to die for. Shall we investigate it, dear boy?"


End file.
